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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211243">Then Perish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexilou989/pseuds/Lexilou989'>Lexilou989</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dancer, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heartbreak, Stockholm Syndrome, Table Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, i had a beta this time guys!, royal tsukishima kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:20:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexilou989/pseuds/Lexilou989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All children are taught from a young age how to behave in front of nobility and even royalty. But for you, a poor girl from the arts districts, whose parents had passed away mere months ago leaving you and your baby brother alone, the urge to find out what made the king so special is too great. Once again your curiosity gets the better of you, and while settled on the lap of a general, you find your eyes drifting toward the king.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Then Perish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You try to shake the nerves coiled in your gut as you stand with the rest of your troupe outside the large feast hall doors. This is going to be your first real performance dancing with them and it is probably going to be the most important performance of your life. </p><p>“Ladies, remember just how we practiced it…” The head dancer calls out. “And as always be cautious of the pit” </p><p>“The pit?” You try to question the more experienced members, but you are quickly shushed as the music queues up inside the hall. ‘What pit?’ you want to ask as the line begins moving forward. The pounding of your heart and the jingles from the medallions decorating your skirts fills your ears and you nervously follow behind those in front of you. </p><p>You don't have to wait long to get an answer to your question though and suddenly it is obvious why the troupe leader had been so hard on everyone for spacing and remaining steady in their circular formation. In the center of the room a large pit opens up on the floor. It is maybe six or seven feet in diameter, and as you approach you can hear a faint hissing growing louder. </p><p>Your curiosity gets the better of you and you peer down quickly then turn away. Taking up your position at the far end of the pit, farthest from the raised platform in the front of the hall, you wipe your sweaty hands on your skirt before raising them beside your face and angle your head. With your back to the literal nest of vipers at the bottom of the pit, you chance a glance at the woman closest to your left, the direction your head is already turned. With hers turned to the right, the two of you make eye contact and you can see the panic that you are feeling reflected in her dark hazel eyes. You give her a small smile hoping to offer some peace to the other, but you aren't sure how convincing it actually reads. </p><p>‘Just like practice...’ you tell yourself and hear the two claps from the troupe leader. You strike your next pose, your hands above your head, the backs of your hands pressed together, arms bent slightly at the elbows. </p><p>‘Delicate fingers…’ you remind yourself. You count the beats in your head and right on queue a chorus of zagareets sounds from the women around you. A chill goes up your spine and your nerves begin to settle as your body moves to the music, muscle memory taking over.</p><p>The joy of dancing calms your spirit and suddenly you no longer remember why you were nervous. Your hips undulate slowly, the bangles on your wrists and ankles clanging gently with each step. The group of women slowly moves in a circle, sometimes getting closer to the pit and sometimes so close to the crowd that you can, and often do, reach your hand out and brush the face or the arm of the man closest to you. </p><p>You can feel the eyes of the soldiers and nobles alike on the eight women dancing before them, their attention held by the sparkling jewellery, flowing skirts, and bared skin. As your bare foot slaps against the stone floor stinging just a little, your hips push forward and your shoulders go back, your arms out to either side. Your movements flow like water. </p><p>You remember a time very recently, earlier today even, where the outfits made you feel uncomfortable and exposed, but now you realize there is power in temptation. The men know they cannot touch you but they are still drawn to your every move as you twirl just out of reach.  The music slowly comes to a close and you end the dance on the opposite side of the hall from where you began, the raised platform now directly in front of you. You hold your position for a moment as the music stops completely and all eight women drop into a curtsey. </p><p>You stay down for a moment trying to catch your breath and when the king begins to clap you all rise gracefully as the rest of the men join gleefully in the applause. </p><p>The troupe leader steps toward the dais. Curtseying deeply once more, she offers thanks to the humble and gracious king for bestowing the honor of the evening's entertainment upon herself and her dance troupe. With a wave of his hand, the king dismisses her without another word and the remaining members of the troupe are ushered into the hall from outside the door. Now that the first dance is over, it’s your job, along with the other 23 dancers, to flit through the crowd and entertain the gentleman, boosting their spirits. </p><p>Of course when you were hired to “entertain” there was no pressure to do anything other than flirt or chat, but it was well known amongst the established members of the troupe that the more you were willing to do, the looser the coin purse strings became. </p><p>All children are taught from a young age how to behave in front of nobility and even royalty. But for you, a poor girl from the arts districts, whose parents had passed away mere months ago leaving you and your baby brother alone, the urge to find out what made the king so special is too great. Once again your curiosity gets the better of you, and while settled on the lap of a general, you find your eyes drifting toward the king. This time the pit of vipers that stares back at you is a soft honey gold. </p><p>His intense eyes bore into your soul as he leans over and whispers in his advisor's ear. His eyes never leave your face. You breathe a sigh of relief as some noble approaches the king, cutting off his line of sight.</p><p>  ~</p><p>You spend most of the evening politely turning down offers from the men, but even so, still managing to get a decent amount of tips. Slowly you see different women from the troupe exiting the hall with the man, or sometimes men, of their choosing until there aren't many left. You look around and notice that the ones remaining are the blushing faces of the new troupe members and the troupe leader who was happily clinging to her married lover at the end of the king's table. </p><p>The bell in the courtyard tower strikes eleven. You know that it's getting late and you should probably go relieve your neighbors from the monster that is your baby brother. You cross the hall and approach the troupe leader, curtseying low as you pass in front of the king. “Pardon me ma’am, m’lord,” you begin addressing her and her lover. “May I take my leave? The hour is late and I must get home.” She seems skeptical at first but then nods and waves you off with a dismissive gesture. </p><p>You step away, but before you make it to the door to the feast hall you are approached by a pair of guards. “You need to come with us,” a gruff voice instructs as each guard grabs an arm and begins leading you out of the room. You look back over your shoulder to the troupe leader, to plead for assistance. She doesn’t notice, but she sports a satisfied smirk and a new change purse on her wrist. </p><p>You are too terrified to try and struggle against the guards, but still the pressure of the hands holding your arms do not lessen. Their grip is the only thing keeping you upright as you stumble on the uneven stone on the floor. If you live long enough to see tomorrow, you know that there will be dark bruising on your fair skin, but you doubt that you'll make it that long. </p><p> All of the commoners know of the cruelty of the king. Their hushed whispers speak of a man filled with pride, harboring no sense of justice and killing those that displeased him. You know that your fate is to be his next victim. A plebeian performer has no worth and this would be your punishment for locking eyes with the king.</p><p>You are led down a series of dimly lit hallways. Instead of being thrown in a dungeon to await your fate, the guards pull you into a clean room and toss you onto a soft four poster bed. They exit without another word and you are left alone and confused.</p><p>~</p><p>Minutes alone, turned into hours and still no one has come to explain what is happening. Eventually you find yourself struggling to keep your eyes open. The bed is here, so you might as well use it. You strip the jewelry and decor from your outfit leaving only the small top and flowing skirt and crawl into the comfortable bed.  Maybe they would let you sleep in before taking you to execution. </p><p>~</p><p>In the morning you wake to a shuffling sound from somewhere in the room and you are now on high alert. You search for the source of the noise only to find a single servant laying out a dress and shoes at the foot of the bed. Her eyes are cast down and she doesn't speak. She leaves the room quickly and you hear the lock slide back into place. </p><p>You scoot to the end of the bed to look at the dress she left. It is simple without much embellishment but the fabric itself is nicer than anything else you own.  While you are admiring the dress and wondering why it had been left there, a delicious scent wafts your way. You glance around and on the small circular table you see a chunk of bread and a bowl. You rush over to it and the bread is still warm in your hands. </p><p>With your stomach suddenly rumbling. You remember that you haven't eaten since breakfast the day before, your nerves having made it impossible to eat anything else before your performance. You take a small bite of the bread, skeptical and wary of poison. When nothing happens you indulge, eating every bite of the sustenance before you. </p><p>The meal is gone quickly, and now you are more confused than before. Why would they bother feeding you if they were just going to execute you later? It didn't make sense to you but with nothing else to occupy your time, your nerves return.</p><p>Lunch is brought in much the same way. A single servant leaves the food on the table. She refuses to look at you and then leaves without a word.  Again, you are left alone with nothing but your thoughts. </p><p>When the same servant girl brings dinner into the room you try to ask her what is going on on, but she just shakes her head and sets the food on the table. She grabs the untouched dress from the end of the bed and leaves a night gown in its place with a pointed look at your performance attire. Then she walks out, locking the door behind her. You understand the meaning of her look and reluctantly put on the night gown and crawl back into bed. </p><p>~</p><p>After a couple days of this repeating routine you begin to relax, no longer thinking they intend to execute you. Now you are just bored and on the dinner visit for the night you decide to ask the girl for paper and ink. </p><p>She doesn't respond, and you don't expect her to, but the next morning when she brings breakfast in the room she also has a small stack of paper and some writing utensils.</p><p>Even as you spend your time drawing, the time passes slowly still and every now and then you ask for something different to entertain yourself. </p><p>Days alone turn into weeks alone, your only point of contact with people being the mute servant that brings you food, and with nobody to speak with you don't say much either.  </p><p>One day after breakfast the mute servant girl comes in and gestures for you to follow her out the door. You aren't sure why, but you don't bother asking, knowing that she isn't one to respond. </p><p>You are led down the hall and into a bathroom where a bath has already been drawn. The servant unties the knot at your waist that holds the dress closed and pushes it down your arms. You feel a blush heat your cheeks and quickly cover yourself. She pushes you towards the bath.</p><p>The water is warm and delicious on your skin and you can't help the sigh that escapes your lips. </p><p>To your chagrin, the relaxation doesn’t last long before the other woman grabs your arm and begins scrubbing thoroughly. Her rough ministrations travel around your body and soon she is washing your hair as well. </p><p>When she drags you from the bath, your skin is tingling as the cooler air hits your skin and you know if you could see yourself you would be bright red from the exfoliation. She begins drying your skin with a soft cloth and gestures for you to sit on a small wooden stool in the corner, she still hasn’t said a word and you are now too confused to be ashamed of your nudity. </p><p>The young lady uses the same soft cloth to remove some of the moisture from your hair before combing through it and adding two simple braids, one at each temple. The braids are then pulled around the back of your head and pinned on the opposite side. A simple and easy style you tended to wear on a regular basis back home. </p><p>She pulls you to your feet and then steps over to a small table you hadn’t noticed in the opposite corner of the room. She picks up a folded garment and returns to your side shaking the dress loose of its creases as she approaches. </p><p>The dress is simple in design but again the fabric is stunning. It is soft and supple with a gold and navy brocade pattern. She holds the dress out behind you and you slide your arms into the sleeves. Once the back is in place around your shoulder she pulls your hair from beneath the collar and settles it in place. She moves around the front and takes the left section of the dress, tying it in place at your right side. She repeats this step on the right section, tying it at your left side. </p><p>You glance down and notice that the wrap style of the dress has left a fairly deep v cut that leaves much of your chest exposed. You want to argue or protest but you still have no idea what is going on and you choose to remain silent. Surely you will find out soon. </p><p>~</p><p>You follow the silent woman through the halls, expecting to be led back to your room. This is the first time you have been out and all the halls look the same, so you are surprised when the woman opens the door to a room that isn't one you recognize. She sees your hesitation and places a gentle hand on your back, a firm push has you stumbling slightly into the room. She offers a small smile, the most emotion you have ever received from her, and closes the door behind herself with a quiet thud.  </p><p>Your eyes wander around the room trying to piece together why you are here, but nothing seems to answer your burning question. The room appears to be bigger than the one you are being kept in, and yet it feels emptier, the sparse furniture not really taking up the space. In the room there is a rectangle table with a large high back chair on one side. There is a small stool to the right of said chair, and as you approach you see there is a large map in the center of the table. Curiosity gets the better of you and you slowly reach out your hand, your fingers gently tracing the lines of places you could only dream of seeing one day. The stories of travelers play over in your mind as you try to imagine the things from stories you have only heard. </p><p>Trapped in your own imagination, you fail to hear the sound of the door opening and closing.</p><p>“You know, you really shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”</p><p>You jump at the intrusion that pulls you from your thoughts and spin around, your hand coming to your chest, words of rebuke ready on your tongue. Your jaw drops and you quickly avert your eyes from the volatile blonde. Confusion holds you frozen in place while you process. “Oh.” You exclaim as understanding dawns on you. You drop into a curtsy, your head bowing low as the words tumble from your lips. “Your majesty! Please forgive me for meeting your eyes. Now and before, weeks ago at the performance. I beseech you, please do not have me executed. I will be cast from your presence and you shall never see me again. I am a simple commoner and it is not my place to ask the king for such kindness but I…” With your eyes still cast on the floor, your flow of words quickly turning into nervous rambling before it gets cut off by the sound of… </p><p>Laughter?</p><p>You glance up from below your lashes, head still angled down, and you are met with the sight of the king once more. A broad smile spread across his face and his hands clutching his side as he laughs… at you?</p><p>Before you can stop it, the fear and anger meld together and your tongue acts faster than your mind. “I am glad my fear for my life has amused his gracious majesty.” Sarcasm laces your tone. </p><p>His annoying laughter dies off and he tries to catch his breath. Your head still bowed and your legs trembling from the curtsey, you have half a mind to rise before being acknowledged despite how improper that would be before your king. </p><p>“Rise.” He instructs. Gratefully you stand and glance at his face. He is wiping his hands across his eyes  with a stupid grin still plastered on his face. “You are correct.” He informs you, stepping closer. You try to take a step as well, but find your retreat blocked by the same table that held your attention moments before. The king’s face is suddenly serious as he traps your body between himself and the table. “If I wanted you dead, you would already be dead.” He reaches out a hand and lazily pulls some of the hair behind your back forward, letting it run through his fingers. You suddenly find it difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat. </p><p>The rage that fueled you mere seconds ago has evaporated, leaving you feeling like a scared insolent child. Your tongue is suddenly very dry, and you clear your throat. “If I am not to be executed then why am I being kept here?”</p><p>“You are here…” he replies. “You are here because I want you. And after your precious troupe leader sold you off for a pretty penny…”  His forefinger hooks under your chin, his thumb rests just below your bottom lip as he forces you to meet his eyes. “I OWN YOU.” His voice is loud and commanding at this declaration, leaving no room for questions. Just as forcefully as he lifted your chin, he shoves it away. You are stunned into silence. </p><p>“Oh come on…” he mocks. “Where is that anger from a moment ago? That defiance? What happened to the fire I saw in you that night at the banquet?” When you again say nothing, he scoffs. “Tch… Pathetic.” The king puts a comfortable distance between the two of you before turning on his heel and walking out the door. </p><p>As your mind reels, aghast at the information you have been given, the guards from the night of the party grab you by the elbows and once more lead you back into the room. Your shadow again your only companion. </p><p>~</p><p>Once a week the same servant girl escorts you from our room, bathes you, and leaves you alone in the same room as before. The king then enters the room, shares a few snide remarks and sends you on your way when you don't respond to his liking. </p><p>Eventually the extra things you requested to pass the time such as the paper and quill are removed from the room. You are bored beyond compare and you begin looking forward to the small meetings with the king. At least they pull you from your isolation and give you someone to speak with, even if he is obnoxious. </p><p>It takes about 2 months before you realize that the less obedient you are the longer your visits last, so you stop holding in your witty remarks. He finds humor and amusement in them. His laugh is boisterous and genuine, and you are startled when you begin to notice the fluttering in your chest that happens anytime he smiles that devilish smile in your direction. </p><p>Your once weekly visits become twice a week visits, and your quick conversations turn into hours alone with the king talking about everything under the sun. </p><p>As you lay in bed thinking about the blonde man, you realize that he isn’t as bad as you had thought those many months ago. </p><p>On your next visit, the king brings in a musician and asks you to dance for him, which you gladly oblige. It's been too long since you've felt the soul cleansing music flood through your body. You kick off your shoes and raise your arms above your head. The music is slow in tempo and you let your hips lead and shimmy your chest forward and then back again. </p><p>The king’s eyes follow your body closely. From the midday light streaming in the window you can see how his hands curl into fists and his pupils dilate. You move with more confidence now, a smirk on your lips. As you dance, you approach his seat and slowly dance around him letting a hand brush against his shoulder or flutter across his chest for a brief moment. </p><p>When the music ends, you are in front of his chair. You bend slightly at the waist giving the king a clear view down the deep v in your dress. Your hands are braced on either armrest and you lock eyes with him. </p><p>“My king,” you say seductively, before dropping into a curtsey, your head almost falling into his lap. His breath hitches and you just smile before standing up. You aren’t really sure when you started finding the man attractive but now there was no hiding that you did.  </p><p>You meet his eyes again and before you can even react he is out of his chair. One hand goes to the small of your back and pulls your hips against his, the other to the back of your neck dragging your face into his. Your lips meet, his stubble rough against your skin. You can't say that you were expecting it, but you certainly aren't upset. </p><p>You wind your arms around his neck and pull him in closer, not hesitating to open your mouth to him when his tongue runs along the seam in your lips requesting entrance. You don't know how long you two are kissing and when he pulls away you are both breathing heavily. The musician is no longer in the room and you briefly wonder when he left. </p><p>“I knew you would want me back.” The king proclaims with a smug look on his face. “I just had to convince you.”</p><p>You don't respond to his taunt and dive back into his lips eagerly. He places his hands gently on your hips and pushes you back until you feel the ledge of the table behind you. His fingers trail down your dress until his hands press to the back of your thighs beneath your bottom. You aren't sure what he is thinking.</p><p>A gasp escapes your lips when his grip tightens and he hoists you into the air only to set you down on the table, the pieces behind you scattering across the large map. Your heart beats heavy and fast as you find yourself in a situation you haven't experienced in a long while. His hand goes to the tie at the outside of your dress. He pulls it loose. </p><p>He pushes the dress open to the one side before he is expertly untying the internal knot at the opposite side. You grab onto his wrist before you can push it open all the way. When he pulls back to look at you, you can see the desire in his honey eyes and a hint of rage flaring behind it. </p><p>“You would deny your king?” He insists incredulously.</p><p>“No!” Is your hasty reply. “No my king, I wouldn't dream of it! It’s just…”</p><p>“It’s just what?” he pushes when you hesitate. </p><p>“Well, you see… I’m not…” </p><p>“Not experienced in this kind of thing? It’s alright for you to be nervous, I will be gentle”</p><p>“No, highness…” A deep breath fills your lungs. “I’m not a virgin,” you cast your gaze down to the ground filled with shame. </p><p>“Oh…” He says thinking for a moment. You feel his hand on your chin again, gentler this time, as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes. “I guess I don't have to be so gentle then.” The smirk from before is back in place, as he proceeds to push your dress fully open leaving you bare before his eyes. </p><p>He captures your lips again, this time with fervor, one of his hands making his way between your legs. He growls at the wetness he finds there. “You really do want me, don't you?” </p><p>You nod, a whimper escaping your lips as his fingers delve into your most intimate spot. He toys with you, making a dripping mess of his fingers, before offering them to you. “Look what you've done,” he chastises. “Your king's hand is so filthy now. Why don't you clean it up?”  </p><p>Your tongue slips out of your mouth and you vigorously lick up the mess you made. With your musk still fresh on your tongue, he leans in for a deep kiss. He moans at the taste. </p><p>Too soon, his hands leave your body and he pulls away from the kiss. You pout with a hmph, missing his warmth, but your frown is quickly replaced when he pushes his trousers down. His member springs free, hard and red. He strokes it slowly a few times so that you can admire it. You would never tell him this, but it's not that impressive. It's just a normal cock in your opinion, but normal is more than alright with you. </p><p>He wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you forward to the edge of the table. You lean back on your hands, your elbows straight, your back arched offering your chest to him. He accepts your offering, his moth latching around a sensitive bud.</p><p>As his tongue laps at your chest and he bites gently he lines himself up and pushes forward into your wet heat. You gasp at the sudden intrusion and mild stretch, before you relax. He rocks his hips gently letting your body get accustomed to his. You lock your ankles behind his back, wrapping your legs around his slim muscled waist. “Please, majesty.” you beg him. </p><p>“Please what my little ballari?” he asks in the old tongue. Little Dancer.</p><p>“Please move faster,” you urge him by pulling him closer with your feet behind his back. </p><p>He chuckles for a moment before giving you what you both want. He picks up his pace, fucking you with reckless abandon. </p><p>Your loud moans fill the room along with the sound of slapping skin. It’s impossible for you to stop the high pitch whines and the mantra of “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” that escapes your lips as the head of his cock slides against the bundle of nerves inside you that makes your toes curl. </p><p>He may not have the most impressive member, when it came to size but he seems to know how to use it. </p><p>He reaches between you and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in circles in time with his thrusts. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. If your hands were not supporting your weight, they would most certainly be scratching welts down his back. Maybe it was better this way. It would be a criminal offense for you to bring physical harm to the king, but still your fingers itch to grab something, to pull something. You flex your fingers and dig your nails into the paper on the table beneath you before curling them up again. The sound of tearing paper reaches your ears through the haze of lust, but you don't care. </p><p>His groans get louder and his hips shutter as he thrusts into you one last time, spilling his seed deep within. Even though he has finished, he doesn't pull out just yet. He leaves his cock buried inside of you, rocking gently. He continues rubbing circles on your clit until you fall over the edge, clamping down on his cock. </p><p>You both hesitate for a moment, trying to catch your breath before he is pulling away and yanking his pants back up. “We should do this again sometime,” he says with a wink and walks out of the room leaving you still trying to recover with a mess between your legs. </p><p>When you're calmed down enough to move you stand on shaking legs. Cum threatens to drip down your thighs and you squeeze your muscles tightly. You knock on the heavy wooden door and the guards escort you back to your room without a word. You fall into bed, and despite the midday sun, you find yourself drifting off to sleep. </p><p>~</p><p>After that day your visits with the king happen even more frequently than before. You don’t always have sex, but when you do, there is always a smug look of satisfaction on his face afterwards. You don't know what that’s about, but you enjoy your time with him nonetheless. </p><p>You learn your way around the wing of the castle where you make your residence and eventually you are let out to wander the halls. There are still guards with you for now, but you are sure that one day he will trust you enough to let you explore alone. </p><p>That day comes and you are moved to a new room in the castle. One that isn't in the abandoned wing and that was closer to the king’s quarters. </p><p>With nothing but time on your hands you learn all the nooks and crannies in the palace and eventually make your way to the library. A collection of books from across the known world sits at your fingertips and you dive in eagerly. The contents fuel your conversations with the king. He hasn't read nearly as many as you have now, what with all the free time on your hands, but he is still a learned man and the topics remain interesting in your discussions. </p><p>You often find yourself craving his company and wishing he were by your side all the time. Sure he is sometimes terse and loves to tease, but your heart flutters in your chest when you see him and you miss him when he is gone. You can admit to yourself that you may actually love him, but you would never say that to his face. His ego is inflated enough, having people grovel at his feet in admiration. He certainly did not need yours on top of it. </p><p>In your studies in the library you come across a map of the old castle, back when it was built. The map shows hidden tunnels and passageways that lead out the castle walls. The book says they were for emergencies if the royal families ever needed to be ushered to safety.  </p><p>On the next visit back to the library you bring a quill, ink, and some paper with you and sketch your own map. This was an exciting adventure. </p><p>You spend the next few days searching for these passageways before you find one that leads outside the castle walls. You step outside for the first time in almost 8 months and feel the sun on your skin. You breathe in deeply, the air of the crowded market filling your lungs. You go to take a step away from the exit but you hear your name being called. </p><p>“Y/N.”</p><p>You panic and force your way back into the hidden entrance, sliding down the wall, a sob escaping your throat. You feel the tears that fall down your chin and for a moment you aren’t sure where they are coming from. Why do you feel like you want to scream and run away back to the small room that held you when you first got here? It was safe. The king would keep you safe from all the people on the outside. You didn't need them, he was all you wanted. </p><p>The vision of a small boy dances in your mind and you almost don't recognize him, and for that, you are ashamed. It’s your little brother. The one you left with your neighbors that night eight months ago. The one you hadn't thought about once in your time here. You were too focused on yourself and your comfort to realize what he must be going through. </p><p>Your baby brother probably thinks you abandoned him, just like your parents had. He isn't old enough to recognize that they died, and it was probably devastating when you didn't return home. He deserves to know that you are alive and ok. That you had not abandoned him, but there were too many people. You couldn't go out right now. That was too much. </p><p>You make your way back to the castle and back to your room, where you find the king waiting for you. </p><p>“Where have you been Y/N?” he asks. </p><p>“In the library,” you answer without hesitation. You aren't sure why you felt the need to hide the passageway from the man that you love, but something is holding you back. </p><p>He narrows his eyes but does not press any further. The two of you make easy conversation before he leaves you to your own devices with a chaste kiss on the cheek. </p><p>You sigh heavily once you are alone again. You make a plan and that evening you make your way back to the secret passage.</p><p>You wind your way through the hidden tunnels before coming out in the market. There are almost no people out this evening and that causes a breath of relief in the cool night air. You close your eyes for a moment before looking around to try and get your bearings. You let your muscle memory guide you down the row of shops into the arts districts. </p><p>Before you know it you find yourself outside the door of your childhood home. Another deep breath and you turn towards the neighbor’s place. There is still a candle lit in the window and you approach slowly, knocking lightly on the door. </p><p>“Who is it?” you hear the gruff voice of the man call out. A voice you hadn’t heard in so long and those inexplicable tears are back. Your chin trembles before you clear your throat and call back to him. </p><p>“It’s me… It’s Y/N…”</p><p>The door is thrown open and the older man and woman stand before you disbelief written on their faces. They recognize you immediately and pull you into the house. The woman wraps you in her arms and you sob into her shoulder. </p><p>“Hush child…” she shushes and gently strokes your hair. When you have quieted and the tears have slowed to a trickle the man steps up and asks, “Where have you been Y/N? What happened to you?”</p><p>The story spills from your lips about that night you were taken into custody and what has followed since then and they look on in abject horror. </p><p>“That king is an awful man!” The dark haired man spits. “Keeping you locked away like that. What a terrible person. He doesn't deserve the throne.”</p><p>“No! Don't say that!” You beg. “The king is kind and gracious. And…” you hesitate. “And I love him.” </p><p>“Honey,” the woman comforts softly. “That’s not love.”</p><p>As suddenly as the tears began, they were replaced with anger. “You don’t know what you are talking about!” You explode at them. “It is love! And he loves me! I can't believe I thought for one second that people like you would understand. You’ve never been in his presence, you know nothing of him.”</p><p>“Please calm down.” The woman insists. “You are going to wake up your brother.”</p><p>“How can I calm down when you just insulted the love of my life?”  You sigh in exasperation. “No, you know what? I came here to make sure that you knew I was alive and that I hadn't abandoned my family, but I see now that was a mistake.” You pull open the door and step out into the night. They just let you go, too occupied by the sound of a small voice that fills the room, but you don't care anymore.  </p><p>You stomp off angrily and when you get to the wall where the entrance to the tunnels is. You cannot find it. You pull at all the crags in the wall hoping one of them will open up and let you go home, but they don’t.</p><p>For the third time since you woke up that day you are overwhelmed by the sobs that wrack your body and shake your shoulders. “Please just let me go home!” you beg the stone before you, but of course it does not answer.   </p><p>You sink to the ground, your back against the wall that had betrayed you and you drift off to a restless sleep. </p><p>~</p><p>You open your eyes when the sun begins to paint the sky a brilliant blue and drag yourself up. Your body is stiff and sore and your eyes are puffy. One last longing look at the stones that had supported you all night and then you start your trek to the castle gates. </p><p>When you get there you are stopped by the guards. You are covered in soot from your night on the ground and they try to send you on your way. </p><p>“Please,” you find yourself begging again. “Please just tell the king that Y/N is at the gate. He will let me in, I swear.”</p><p>They are skeptical at first but at your insistence they dispatch a younger guard to verify your story. </p><p>When he returns he communicates quietly with the other guards who bar your entrance. They glance at you before escorting you inside the walls. You are handed off to the guards that you recognize as your escorts from the last eight months and they lead you back to your room. They close the door behind you and for the first time in many months you hear a lock latch into place with a resounding thunk.</p><p>You don't even bother changing clothes before you fall into the bed. You are ashamed of yourself, but there are no more tears left to cry so you stare at the wall solemnly. </p><p>You aren't sure how much time really passes before the door is being unlocked. You sit up quickly trying to settle your disheveled hair to be presentable for your love…</p><p>But it is not the king who enters through the door. It is the guards again. “Come with us.” They instruct you. Maybe they are taking you to see the king. You quickly hurry after them and one guard falls in line behind you. That is unusual you think, but continue following anyway. You will get to see your love after all. </p><p>You are led into the great hall where your journey started and you are greeted by the king in his throne and his advisors seated around him. You smile at him as you make your way around the pit but he doesn't smile back.</p><p>He holds up a hand to silence the conversations around him. </p><p>“Y/N. You are here before me on accusations of treason.”</p><p>Wait what?</p><p>“You were seen sneaking out of the castle in the dead of night last night. Is that true?”</p><p>“Yes, but...” he interrupts your explanation. </p><p>“You were also spotted entering the house in the artist district of the tailor daichi, is that true?”</p><p>“Yes, but…” again he cuts you off.</p><p>“Are you aware that he speaks out against me and my position on the throne?”</p><p>“Yes, but…” this time you hesitate in your own explanation. You didn't know that until the night before but your hope is quickly dwindling. </p><p>“You have openly admitted to having contact with a known supporter of the Usurper Shoyo.” he stands from his throne and descends the dais where he stops in front of you. “The only conclusion is that you are guilty of treason, a crime punishable by death. Would you see me lose my throne and my life?” He asks. </p><p>“No my king! I love you! I would die for you!” you tell him in earnest. </p><p>With no mercy in his eyes, he shoves you. You stumble backwards, but there is no floor to steady you and you are tumbling down. The sound or hissing vipers filling your ears.  </p><p>“Then perish.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Um so i hope you like it! this was actually inspired by a "how the haaikyuu characters would respond if you told them you would die for them" chart meme and I couldnt let the idea go! </p><p>here is the googe image link https://images.app.goo.gl/GDi1y8wkqeURAJE97</p><p>Any comments appreciated! and thank you for taking the time to read it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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